


Covenant with Death

by tfm



Series: The Scourger [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: Assassin Bren Aldric Ermendrud defects from the Soltryce Academy, after having his memories restored. The spy responsible, Beauregard Lionett, of the Cobalt Soul, is the one who takes the blame.Sequel to 'The Scourger'





	Covenant with Death

In the days after she returned from Rexxentrum, after she debriefed with Dairon, and unpacked her bag, Beau did the same thing she always did after returning from a mission. Had a long, hot shower,  went to the Cobalt gym to burn off some steam, and then got dressed to the fucking nines, and went out with Fjord and Caddy to the most expensive sushi restaurant in town.

Generally, she got about six days of downtime before having to dive back into it. For once, this was something that Beau wasn’t looking forward to. She was still feeling a little uneasy about how things had gone down in Rexxentrum, and the fact that the Scourger was still out there somewhere.

Still, she tried not to let that thought bother her as she dressed in the expensive, hand-tailored suit that she’d gotten made in Vasselheim. It had cost her an arm and a leg, but that was the great thing about hazard pay.

Not to mentioned, she looked fucking hot in it. Expensive blue wool, lined with silk, it had gotten Beau laid more times that she could count. Okay, twice. It had gotten her laid twice. Tonight, maybe, she could make it three times, because according to Fjord, the beautiful station ops aasimar from Rexxentrum had been reassigned, and was joining them for dinner.

Spending too much time together outside of ops was generally frowned upon, but given that they were in Zadash, Dairon tended to avoid making too much of a big deal about it. As long as they didn’t make a habit of being together in public.

The logic went that if a target saw them together in Zadash, and then saw them again, pretending not to know each other in Emon, then they’d get suspicious. It was a bit of overkill, Beau thought, considering she and Fjord rarely went on missions together. Even when they did, at least one of them was in full disguise. Usually Fjord, with his Mask of Many Faces.

For a brief moment, Beau considered taking the coupe. After the time she’d spent in Rexxentrum, and the time spent in debrief, the engine needed a turnover. But, it had been leaking oil before she left, and the last thing she wanted was to stain her clothes, because the suit was a fucking bitch to dry clean. Instead, she took the Metro, knowing that she would thank herself later, when she was trying to get home, trashed, at two in the morning. Drunk driving never did anyone any good.

Even with her headphones on, she got a few weird looks, and a couple of what she suspected were catcalls. Beau ignored them. She didn’t want to get arrested for assault before she even made it back to work.

The restaurant was in a pretty nice part of town, one that Beau didn’t generally tend to frequent. The fact that she got some pretty respectable looks as she walked from the Metro stop to the restaurant was kind of hilarious to her. If she’d been wearing her usual torn jeans, muscle crop top and Doc Martens, then she doubted the looks would be as complementary. 

The ma î tre’d’ greeted her with a short bow. ‘Ms. Lionett,’ he said. Beau was certain that this was the only place in the world where people called her  _Ms. Lionett_ . ‘Your party is in the back.’

Fjord gave her a sarcastic wolf-whistle, as she sat down next him. Caduceus gave a polite wave. 

‘Hot damn, you sure put the effort in tonight. Is that cologne?’ Fjord was grinning. Beau’s dark skin colored slightly. It _was_ cologne, which had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, sitting in a fancy, hundred gold piece a plate restaurant, it maybe seemed like too much.

Beau considered all the witty responses she could have given him. The one she settled on was, ‘Shut up, Fjord,’ which was about the stupidest one she could have picked.

Fjord grinned, his tusks poking out from behind his lips. ‘You’ve never worn cologne for one of these shindigs before. Is it because a certain, ah...aasimar is going to be here?’ Beau gave him the finger, which was an answer in and of itself.

‘She saved my life,’ Beau said. ‘The least I could do is show her a good time.’ It wasn’t strictly true. _Technically_ , it had been Yasha and Nott that had saved her, with the tiefling, Jester, coming in to finish the job. But Fjord didn’t know that, and Beau wasn’t about to let the truth ruin a good excuse to flirt.

Not that she expected anything to come from it.

Still, it didn’t stop Beau from blushing ever so slightly when she saw the tall, angelic figure walking towards them more than a little hesitantly.

‘Fjord said to wear a suit,’ Yasha said, and Beau tried not to smirk. The suit was tight across the back, and about four inches too short. It definitely gave Beau a few things to stare at.

It was an off-the-rack black number, that Beau assumed she’d bought in the men’s section, because with shoulders that muscular, there was no way anything in the women’s section would have fit. Beau had run into that problem herself before, and she was half Yasha’s size.

‘You look nice,’ Beau said, giving Yasha a wink. Beside Beau, Fjord rolled his eyes. Yasha looked at her, a little bemused. 

‘Thank-you. Uh…so do you.’ Yasha looked down at the menu in front of her. ‘I have never had ah...sushi before,’ she said, pronouncing it entirely incorrectly. ‘Is it anything like rat?’

_Oh, honey,_ Beau grinned.

They ordered damn near everything on the menu. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But they ordered enough to make sure that Yasha had a well-rounded introduction to the sushi experience, and that Caduceus had enough to eat because Beau had no idea how he managed to get enough food every day without eating meat.

‘Healthy fats,’ he told her, when she’d asked one time, and Beau had no idea what that meant. True, she did have a meal plan that her personal trainer so helpfully slipped into her locker after every training session. Beau took great pleasure in ignoring it completely when she ate her third deep dish pepperoni pizza of the week.

In addition to the food, they drank plum wine, and sake (Caddy once again abstaining). It was, like always, an expensive, decadent night. They were the only four left in the place, when the waiter finally brought the bill, and both Beau and Fjord were a little bit drunk. Yasha, who had drunk as much as either of them, seemed to have the constitution of an ox, and rebuffed every single one of Beau’s attempts to pick up.

Beau couldn’t tell whether her shots just weren’t landing, or the aasimar was being purposefully obtuse. Either way, it looked like Beau would be spending the night alone.

_Ah, well_ . 

Yasha got out her coin purse to pay her share, and both Fjord and Beau waved her off immediately.

‘Trust me,’ Beau said. ‘We got this.’ The total came to a little over a thousand gold, which, for one meal was fucking highway robbery, but both Beau and Fjord had a decent amount put away in the “do cool shit after missions” account that was just begging to be spent. Last time, they had taken helicopter flying lessons, just for fun.

‘Ya never know when you’ll have to take over from a pilot that’s just had a heart attack,’ Fjord had said, sagely. As if they’d ever spent time in a helicopter that wasn’t cowering in the back, in pitch black, waiting to get dropped in a hot zone.

Beau remembered the time the helicopter had hovered about five feet higher than it usually did, and she’d fallen awkwardly, almost breaking a couple of ankles. They’d almost lost the pilot then, on account of the fact that Beau had to restrain herself from jumping back up there and murdering him.

‘Do you need a ride, Beau?’ Yasha asked, as they milled around on the street outside, saying their goodbyes.

‘Nah, I’m good,’ Beau said. She didn’t think she’d be able to restrain herself if she rode pillion on Yasha’s motorbike. In any case, the walk to the station would help sober her up.

Fjord gave her a kiss on the cheek, which she pretended to be disgusted by. ‘Ugh, gross.’

‘You stay safe, Beau,’ he said. It seemed ridiculous to be told to stay safe in Zadash, of all places. She’d never been shot in Zadash. Beaten up a couple of times, sure, but never shot. Rolling her eyes at him, she put on her headphones, and started to walk.

It was a nice night; cool for a Zadash summer. Soon, though, the days would get longer, and hotter, and Beau would be left trying to find a way to cool her shitty apartment, which turned into a hotbox.

_Maybe if you didn’t spend all your money on sushi and flying lessons_ , said a tiny voice in the back of her head.

She decided to take a shortcut down an alleyway, which was her first mistake. She didn’t take off her headphones, which was her second mistake.

They jumped her before she even had a chance to react, something long and hard whacking across the back of her spine.  _What the fuck_ , Beau thought, but she didn’t go down. She’d been hit by a lot of different things so many godsdamned times, it took a few more hits than that to take her out. She responded with a flying kick to the guy’s face, and that was what she noticed that there were four more of them, all armed with fucking truncheons.

This didn’t seem like Soltryce’s style, she thought, focusing her strikes on the one that had hit her across the back. The others swung their own truncheons in her direction; Beau managed to duck out of the way of three of them, but the fourth caught her across the face, breaking her nose, and possibly the jaw. Blood dripped down her face and neck, onto her shirt.

Reeling back for an epic Haymaker, Beau caught a glance of the tiny, golden crown stitched onto their jackets. They weren’t assassins, they were fucking  _Crownsguard_ .

She pulled out of the punch, and dropped her hands. ‘There’s obviously been some sort of mistake,’ she said, the words agony against her jaw. The guard’s kick sent her reeling to the ground. Before she could even move, a half dozen more feet impacted her stomach and face. Dazed, she was barely conscious enough to hear the next words.

‘Beauregard Lionett, you are under arrest for treason.’

She couldn’t believe they’d ruined her suit.

…

Bren sat in a Cafe, and watched the world go by.

It had been almost a week since his mind had cleared, since he had left everything he thought he had known behind.

The first thing he had done was find a forger, and procure new documentation. The name –  _his_ name – on his passport was Caleb Widogast, and he was a refugee from Xhorhas living in Rexxentrum.

He had hesitated on the “Rexxentrum” part. It had been the last place they’d sent him, after all. But, they would expect him to flee, which was all the more reason that he should remain.

The second thing he did was find a Zemnian bakery, and buy some  Vanillekipferl. They weren’t as sweet as his mother’s had been, nor as nutty, but they achieved their purpose, which was to give him a reminder of the life that he had burned to ash the day he became a Vollstrecker. 

Those memories were clear in his mind; clearer than they had been at any point in the last eleven years. Clear enough that he knew he had manipulating into committing the murders. Not clear enough, though, that he didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of guilt.

A small part of him wanted to find the place in the Zemnian Fields (not that they were called that anymore) where his parents had been buried. But that would be far too unsubtle, even for him.

More than guilt, he felt a burning desire for vengeance against the people that had manipulated him, had tricked him. If it took Bren – Caleb – to his dying breath, then he would take his revenge against Trent Ikithon and the Soltryce Academy.

Already, he had made waves. Murdering the Archmage of Domestic Protections on his way out had been a risky move, but one that he was sure would pay off. Soltryce were already floundering to fill the vacuum.

Strangely, the death had not been reported. What had been reported, though, was his own face on the news, along with the caption: "wanted for treason against the Empire." Worse than that, his actions had implicated the Cobalt Soul operative that was responsible for his regaining his faculties. It had taken him a moment or so to recognize the picture of her, which seemed to be a few years old. He wasn't sure whether or not he felt guilty, but it was an added complication to his situation. If she talked; if she told them what had happened, then the Soltryce Academy would know that he had come to his senses, would know the reason for his defection. Not ideal, to say the least. 

The smart thing to do, of course, would be to track her down, and kill her. Then, she couldn’t tell anyone anything.

That wasn’t very subtle, though. For all he knew, she had been set out as bait, waiting for him to tie off the last of his loose ends. That he would go to kill her, and a dozen or so Cobalt agents who surround him.

But no, that wasn’t likely. Cobalt didn’t have much at all to do with the things the Soltryce Academy were getting up to. They wouldn’t track down Bren without some sort of incentive. If he killed her, then there would be no way for them to track him down.

Yes, Caleb decided.

That was what he would do next. Kill the Cobalt Soul agent.

Just like the Soltryce Academy had ordered him to.

…

Beau stared at the blank brick wall in front of her, still a little stunned.

They stripped her of the clothes entirely during processing, giving her a plain grey t-shirt and sweatpants. Beau would have been offended at that gesture, if she wasn’t still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Crownsguard – the people that were supposed to be on the same side as her – had ambushed her in an alleyway, and arrested her for treason. Not the most auspicious start to her return to work.

Their punches and kicks and whacks with the truncheon had all left their mark, and the Crownsguard hadn’t exactly bothered to heal her before chucking her into holding.

She’d been there almost two hours, now, and the throbbing that had been agony for the first half hour or so, had settled into a dull ache. The jaw was probably the worst of it, but Beau had broken her jaw before, and she was kind of used to the pain.

She waited in silence for another hour or so. Couldn’t even get up to pace, thanks to the handcuffs securing her to the metal. As though she had any way of escaping the room.

Finally – finally – the door opened, and Beau expected to see some faceless Soltryce goons. Instead, she was surprised.

Fjord and Yasha stepped in. For half a second, the fear rose in her stomach, before Fjord said, ‘We don’t have much time.’

Yasha put a hand to her cheek, and Beau felt her broken jaw heal. She looked up at the aasimar in surprise. The aasimar who looked very worried about the whole situation.

‘Thanks,’ Beau said, staring up at the other woman. Her nose was still broken, in addition to a couple of ribs, but she could talk now, which was something.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ she asked. She didn’t need to elaborate.

‘You’ve been burned, Beau ’ Fjord said, and it was as though Beau’s whole world came crashing down.

_What the fuck?_

Okay, she had done a lot of stupid shit in her short career, but nothing that was burn-worthy. Nothing that would be the catalyst for her sitting in a Crownsguard interrogation room, hands cuffed, and life in ruins.

‘Why?’ was the only question she could even conceive asking.

Fjord looked over at the security camera. The little red light that should have been there, wasn’t. Whatever they’d done, it probably wouldn’t last long.

‘The Scourger,’ Fjord told Beau, and her whole body sunk. They’re saying that you're working with him, that you let him escape.’

‘That’s fucking bullshit,’ Beau said, before she could stop herself.

‘ _I_ know that, he said, patiently. ‘But Soltryce are pushing for your execution. Dairon thinks they think you had something to do with the Scourger’s defection. She’s been trying to talk ‘em down for the last two hours.’

At first, Beau thought she must have misheard him. ‘The Scourger defected?’ she asked, disbelieving. That was...weird.

Then, she remembered the letter that she’d gotten, and the “Formerly of the Soltryce Academy” “part. Then, things started to make sense. Someone must have seen the whole “thanks for setting me free,” comment, and assumed the worst. If Soltryce were looking to lay blame for their lost soldier, then she was an ideal candidate.

She had, after all, failed to follow him through the  _Wall of Flames_ .

_Fuck_ .

‘I didn’t do it,’ she told him. ‘I swear I didn’t. You can’t let them kill me.’ There was an unfamiliar fear that shot through her, a fear that she’d never felt before, not when stuck deep behind enemy lines, not when bleeding to death, not when her father had kicked her out into the cold. 

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘We know. That’s why we’re getting you out of here.’

Fjord and Yasha left almost as quickly as they’d arrived, and almost as soon as Fjord shut the door behind him, it opened again.

Through her swollen eyes, Beau saw Dairon. To their credit, the elf looked worried. Though, whether it was a fear for Beau's safety, or a fear that her own treason was about to be uncovered was unclear. ‘Are you alright?’ Dairon asked. Her voice was low, and she sounded worried.

Beau snorted. It sent a wave of pain through her broken nose, and she was pretty sure she'd sprayed blood across the table. ‘What do you care?’

She wasn’t expecting Dairon to respond, and was surprised when they did. ‘You never should have been caught up in this.’

‘In what? What the fuck did I get “caught up in”?’

‘In my attempts to uncover the Soltryce Academy’s corruption.’

‘I mean,’ Beau said. ‘That was literally the job I signed up to do.’ Signed up was a strong word. The job she was strong-armed into doing. But she’d had no qualms about trying to take down Soltryce, even though it had ended in her arrest.

Beau looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. The little red light was still unblinking Whatever it was that Dairon wanted to say in this room, she didn’t want Cobalt, or, more to the point, Soltryce, to find out about it.

‘Tell me what happened,’ Dairon said, and Beau, for once in her life, decided on the truth. Or at least, the truth of what she’d been working through in her head for the last couple of hours.

‘The Rexxentrum station operatives brought in a cleric to heal my wounds,’ she said. ‘She was there when The Scourger attacked, and cast _Greater Restoration_ on him when he tried to poison himself.’ Dairon frowned, as though she couldn’t quite see where this was going. ‘Then I got a letter from him, saying “thanks for setting me free.” Putting two and two together, I think Soltryce might have modified his memories, and the spell the cleric cast might’ve restored them.’ It was a bit of a stretch, but a memory modify was about the biggest thing a _Restoration_ could have cleared, and judging by the Scourger’s behavior, whatever had changed inside him had been pretty fucking big.

Dairon frowned, more at the second part of what Beau had said than the first part. ‘That’s a lot more than what we had before. If there’s corruption – if they’re modifying the memories of anyone else, then that’s definitely enough to bring them down.’

‘If we can find proof,’ Beau said.

‘If we can find proof,’ Dairon agreed.

It was no small task. Trying to bring down the Soltryce Academy was what had gotten Beau into this mess in the first place. To do it without the support of Cobalt was damn near impossible. A horrifying thought struck her, and she was surprised it had taken so long.

There was only one person in the world that could really help her bring down the Soltryce Academy, and he had tried to kill her once already.

Great. Just fucking great.

Not that any of that mattered now, while she was locked in a cell in fuck knows where. Even if she managed to escape the cell, there were still a lot of doors she’d have to pass through.

‘Am I correct in assuming that you have already picked the locks to your cuffs?’ Dairon said. Beau could have laughed. She had, in fact, been working on the locks for the last half hour or so, surreptitiously, just in case either Fjord or Dairon had a different agenda in mind. 

‘What’d you have in mind?’ Beau asked, not moving her hands. She wanted to see Dairon show their cards before she showed hers.

‘I want you to punch me in the face,’ Dairon said. A pause. ‘I won’t dodge.’ Beau snorted. In all the times they’d sparred, Beau had never quite managed to land a punch on her boss. For it to happen now, in these circumstances...well, it was ridiculous. Not to mention a little bit embarrassing. ‘After you get out, go to the dead drop that you like the most.’

So maybe it was with a little more power than she would have otherwise that Beau punched her (former?) boss.

What were they going to do? Arrest her?

…

The spy – the former spy – would be getting out of Zadash quickly. Of that much, Caleb was certain. He tried  _Scrying_ on her, and found it to be an unsuccessful endeavor. Like him, he was sure she had been given something – a ring or an amulet or a bracelet – to protect against any kind of Divination magics. It would not do well for a spy to be caught out by such a simple spell.

Fortunately, his Vollstrecker training had given him a wide variety of resources in tracking down individuals, both magic and otherwise.

He could have spent hours going to the Soltryce building, looking at security footage, asking people questions, but that all seemed like a waste of his time, and frankly, he had better ways of finding out information.

The problem with people, of course, was that they talked. So as soon as the Cleric had finished communing with Tiamat, Caleb set him on fire. The man burned and screamed, and Caleb watched.

There was a tiny twitch in the back of his mind. A memory, of different screams, a different fire. 

For six seconds or so, he felt himself freeze, and when he returned, he thanked his luck that there was not anyone else around that could take advantage of his predicament.

…

Beau went to the dead drop, just like Dairon told her to. She was a little concerned about doing something so predictable, but at the same time, she knew that whatever was in there, she would need to survive the next few weeks.

As for it being her favorite dead drop; well, the building that made up one half of the alleyway just so happened to house the best hot wing joint in the city. It was ridiculous how many of Beau’s favorite places involved food.

At the dead drop, there was what Cobalt agents lovingly referred to as a bug-out bag. The bag with everything you needed when shit hit the fan, and the only thing that you could do was run the fuck away. In it was a couple of spare sets of clothes, some gold, and a few other odds and ends that would no doubt help in her cover mission to take down the fucking Soltryce Academy. In the side pocket, she found a piece of cardboard with an encoded message. Before she did anything else, Beau sat down in a different alleyway (no sense in sticking around an incriminating one) and decoded the message. It wasn’t a long one:

_Squall-Eater. 9:30 tomorrow_ .

Beau didn’t know what “Squall-Eater” was, but she assumed that it was a ship. It would be impossible to get out of the city by air, and they probably had all of the  _Teleportation Circles_ under lockdown.

So, she found a cheap, hourly motel near the docks, which sent a crawl down her spine. It seemed like the sort of place, though, where they didn’t ask awkward questions, and didn’t play ball when Crownsguard came knocking.

Then, she took the shitty electric razor she’d found at a shitty convenience store, and shaved her head. The action gave her an oddly emotional feeling that she hadn’t quite expected (less, certainly than the one she got from having to slice the tracker out of her arm). She’d gotten that haircut the day she started at the Cobalt Academy, and she hadn’t changed it since. To shave it off now meant to say goodbye to her old life, the life she’d been ripped from just hours ago.

She took a shower to wash all the little bits of hair off her shoulders, and, toweling her freshly shorn scalp dry, turned on the TV.

She was a little surprised to find out that she and Mr Scourger already had their photos being blasted across every channel, advising of their “most wanted” status,  and a pretty decent reward . If Beau were in a better mood, she might have made a joke about it being the first time in her life that she was ever wanted.

She was torn between amusement and relief at the mugshot they had used. It was at least six years old, from the first time she'd been arrested. That Beau was covered in bruises and piercings, and had a pretty big chip on her shoulder. The chip was still there, of course, but it had lessened over the years. It was good, because she was less likely to be recognized, and not so good, because all those people back home who thought she’d amount to nothing in life would be feeling vindicated.

Obviously they couldn’t use her Cobalt ID photo, because that would come very close to them admitting that she had been a covert operative, something that they were clearly trying to avoid. Better for everyone involved if people thought she was another one of those radical youths that would do anything to save the planet, or whatever bullshit cover story they’d spun.

That night, she didn’t sleep, instead, watching the door, ready to flee if she had to. She’d set a row of empty bottles in front of it, just in case she happened to nod off.

Of course, she was far too tightly wound to fall asleep. Every second she spent sitting there, staring at the door, was another second her mind spend going over the things that her happened, and all the things that were going to happen.

...

Beau was at the docks at six a.m, waiting for her ship. From her quick look up and down the docks, it didn’t seem to be in port yet. Of course, she could have been completely wrong, and the  _Squall-Eater_ was the name of a car rental company that she had to go and find.

She wasn’t wrong.

The  _Squall Eater_ docked at 9:43am, and Beau was aboard it by 9:44. They didn’t seem inclined to stick around, and Beau didn’t particularly want to either. She was already antsy enough at the thought of getting on a boat; if someone found out where she was going, then there was no way to escape. It was only the trust that she had in Fjord and in Dairon that calmed her mind.

It was a merchant ship, but clearly one that had some kind of Cobalt connection. An informant, perhaps, or a former agent.

The captain was an elven woman named Avantika, a little older than Beau. She had long, curly red hair, and was admittedly, pretty fucking hot. If not for the severity of the situation, Beau might have considered making a move.

Hell, she might end up trying to make a move anyway. She wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to do on a whoever the fuck knows how long boat trip to whoever the fuck knew where.

‘So you have a history with Cobalt?’ Beau asked, making what she thought was supposed to be polite conversation.

‘I worked with your...Captain Tusktooth,’ Avantika said, clearly aware that she had been given an alias. ‘Do you know him?’

‘I know who you might be speaking of,’ Beau said, cautiously. She made a mental note to give Fjord a ton of shit the next time she saw him. Which, admittedly, might be never again.

‘Did you do what they say you did?’ Avantika asked.

‘No,’ Beau said.

Avantika made a strange sound. Beau wasn’t sure whether it was disbelief, or if the other woman would have respected her more if she  _had_ done it.

Beau was led to a private bunk room with a lock on the door. It made her feel uneasy. For all that she didn’t think that Soltryce would ever think that she would be going anywhere by ocean, she didn’t like the feeling of being trapped out on the water, with nowhere to escape to if something went wrong.

Her nose was still broken, and her body was still bruised, and she was still fucking  _burned_ , but…all things considered, it could have been worse.

She could have been still locked up, awaiting her inevitable execution. Or, they could have just killed her on the spot.

Small favors.

Three days passed, before Captain Avantika deemed it necessary to tell Beau where they were going. By that point, Beau had sort of figured it out. She wasn’t great on the water, but she could at the very least tell which way she was going, by the stars. It was one of the skills she’d learned in training.

You never knew when you’d be stuck in enemy territory with no map, or compass, or anything to guide your path.

‘Have you ever been to Marquet?’

Beau shook her head. She’d been to a lot of places – to Emon, to Vasselheim, to Rosohna – but never to Marquet. There was a general moratorium on Cobalt agents working there, thanks to a disagreement with J'mon Sa Ord, benevolent dictator. Of course, Cobalt still operated there, they just had to be a bit more circumspect about it.

‘Though,’ she added, ‘I’m pretty sure that’s where my mother is from.’ Not that that was something they had ever discussed. “Personal matters” were not considered of great import in the Lionett family. Clearly, they weren't that important to Avantika, either, for the elf had something of a glazed look in her eyes, as though she hadn’t been paying attention to the answer.

In any case, Beau hadn’t seen or spoken to her mother in a very long time, and she had no plans to do so any time soon. She was almost certain that if she were to return to Kamordah, neither of her parents would hesitate to turning her in, and watching the execution on TV, popcorn at the ready.

_No_ , she thought to herself. That was stupid.

_They’d never eat anything as pedestrian as popcorn._

Foie gras, more like it, along with one of the more expensive bottles of wine. Nothing like a special occasion to crack open the good stuff.

‘What's to stop you from turning me in and claiming the reward money?’ Beau wanted to know. It was something that had been bugging her ever since she’d set foot on the boat.

‘Nothing,’ Avantika admitted. ‘Except perhaps the knowledge that your Dairon would kill me if anything happened to you.’ Beau was surprised by this. Not that Avantika knew Dairon – more that Dairon had had so close a hand in facilitating her escape. It made sense, though. Dairon was a facilitator. She was the only one that could have pulled this all together without any of the higher-ups finding out about it. As much as Beau liked Fjord, he didn’t have the connections to pull this off.

The journey to Marquet was a long one, for boat travel, and by the time Beau disembarked, she was champing at the bit to get moving.

The first thing  she did after getting off the ship was hightail it. If there had been any informants on board, then the first thing  _they_ would do was report her to the local law enforcement. Marquet didn't have an extradition treaty with Wildemount, but that didn't mean much. Not if money was involved. 

She had been given thinly veiled instructions to go and find the Cobalt operative stationed in Ank'Harel, instructions that Beau had decided to summarily ignore. If Soltryce came looking for her – hell, even if Cobalt came looking for her – she didn't want to make it easy for them. Dairon would have expected her to disobey this particular order. Hell, she might have even been planning for it.

Still, Beau was curious to know who was stationed out here, in Ank'Harel, in the middle of a blazing summer. She certainly didn't envy them. At least Rexxentrum had good weather. 

She watched the meet-up point from a distance. If anyone was planning to get the drop on her, that was where they would do it. Half-an-hour before the scheduled rendezvous, Beau saw a squat, ginger-haired figure appear in her line of sight.

Keg. That was...actually a little surprising. Beau trusted Keg as much as she trusted anyone. They'd gotten a lavish amount of praise a year or so back for the Shady Creek Run job, where they'd single-handedly managed to take down an Iron Shepherds cell. Beau had leveraged that victory for some pretty dope assignments, so how the fuck had Keg ended up  _here_ of all places? 

In the end, her desire for freedom outweighed her curiosity. She could find out the answer another day. Now, she needed to get as far away from Ank'Harel as possible. 

On foot would have been stupid. She'd be dead from dehydration within an hour. It would have to be by magic, which meant bribery.

The coin purse had five hundred gold pieces in it; which, for a lot of people was enough to live on, but when you were on the run trying to stay alive...well, it seemed to vanish a lot faster.

She spent a hundred of those gold pieces on the teleportation circle, and then another hundred for the wizard that if anyone asked, he’d sent her to Emon.

In terms of places where Cobalt and Soltryce were unlikely to think she’d go, Rosohna was pretty high up there. It was a dangerous place for humans, which, unfortunately, meant that she would stick out like a sore thumb if she ended up there.

Instead, she told the wizard to send her to Vasselheim. Even if someone did get the bright idea of going after her, Vasselheim was big enough and diverse enough that they’d have a harder time tracking her down.

What she was going to do once she got there, she had no idea.

…

Vasselheim was...different

It wasn’t the first time Beau had been there, but she still got a weird rush every time she did. It was a melting point of culture that wasn’t quite Empire, wasn’t quite Xhorhas, wasn’t quite Tal’Dorei.

Beau didn’t stop to be a tourist.

She had three hundred gold left, but who knows how long that would have to last. Beau decided against taking a risk, and booked herself a night in a shitty, run down hotel far from the glitz and the glamor of the sights of Vasselheim.

There was an amazing MMA arena here, that she’d always wanted to fight at. It seemed ill-conceived to try that now, though, considering all the matches were live-cast. It would be just her luck to make it all the way to Vasselheim, and then get caught because she wanted to punch some things.

Instead, she  ordered a pizza, and  lay in the  old, uncomfortable, and  possibly bed-bug ridden bed, and stared at the ceiling. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to do.

She supposed the answer was that she would have to find a forger, and pick a false name, and start a new life as a Cleric of Bahumut, or something equally ridiculous that no-one would expect of her. As nice a thought it was, Beau didn’t have a single drop of magic in her blood, and didn’t have the patience to learn it the old-fashioned way, out of books after painstaking study.

The other option, of course, was the one that had been mulling around the back of her head ever since she’d found out that the Soltryce were throwing her under the bus. The one where she would have to go up against a corrupt behemoth alone, without the backup of her friends (who were probably facing their own consequences for her disappearance).

The one where the only way any of this would go away is if she tracked down the asshole that had ruined her life, and used him to her advantage.

Easier said than done.

…

Marquet was blazing hot, but thankfully, he did not have to stay there too long.

The Zemnian Fields, prior to their (forced) assimilation into the Empire, had been cold, and bitter, and dark. Caleb had very fond memories of his childhood there. Very fond memories of the tiny wooden cottage that he had burned to ash, with his parents still inside.

The thought hadn’t bothered him for so long, but now...now, their screams were all he could hear when he went to sleep of a night. It made it very difficult to think.

As such, it took a little longer than he would have liked to track down the wizard that had  _Teleported_ her somewhere else.

For of course, he knew that she would not want to stay in Marquet. Not given what she had done so far. It had been easy enough for Caleb to trace her, and the Soltryce Academy had ten time the resources that he did.

It wasn’t that she was bad. It was more that he had been tracking people down to kill for a very long time. Eventually you learned the patterns.

Like how the spies always liked to keep moving, and the best way to move was by magi.

The wizard told Caleb that he had sent the woman to Emon. Under threat of  _Immolation_ , he admitted that that was what she had paid him to tell people. That he had instead, sent her to Vasselheim.

‘Thank-you for your honesty,’ Caleb said, sincerely. ‘If it is any consolation, I do not think she will be able to exact her revenge.’ The wizard flinched, and Caleb saw him reach for his pouch. He stepped back, hands up.

‘I am not going to hurt you, _mein Freund_ ,’ Caleb said, and was surprised to realize that he meant it. Every second longer he spent out from under the sway of the Soltryce Academy was a second that he felt a little sicker about some of the things that he had been forced to do. ‘I simply mean that I do not think this spy will ever return to Marquet.’ The other wizard seemed to relax considerably. This would be the perfect time to kill him, but Caleb didn’t.

He knew he should, and yet he could not bring himself to do it. Bren was dead. Caleb, he decided, was a little more compassionate.

Compassion.

It was not an emotion that he was overly familiar with, and yet it felt so familiar. It was very confusing. 

With an awkward wave, he left, feeling a bit like an idiot.

…

Once Caleb reached Vasselheim, it did not take him long to track down the spy.

Beauregard was good, but Bren – Caleb – was better. She did not even bother to disguise herself after fleeing the _Teleportation Circle_ , making it easy enough for him to disguise himself as member of the Bastion, and review security tapes from the surrounding businesses. He tracked her to an old motel, not too far from the Braving Grounds District. She had shaved her head, but not even that could fool Caleb’s senses.

Then, it was just a matter of waiting for her to leave, and following her down a dark alleyway.

The opportunity came early one Folsen, while he was disguised as a homeless man sleeping on a stoop. The woman, wearing jeans, and a plain white t-shirt, exited the motel. He had been following for less thirty seconds, when she made her move, diving  out of the way with almost inhuman speed, disappearing around the corner before Caleb could even blink. He hadn’t even realized that she’d noticed him.

‘ _Scheisse_ ,’ he muttered. She was faster than he had thought. The Cobalt had always taught their agents to be fast. It was part of the reason why they were so hard to kill. Before he’d had his mind cleared, he had nothing holding him back. None of this doubt, or hesitation. He paused.

Then, he ran after her.

Caleb rounded the corner, readying a _Fireball_.

He was met with a punch to the face.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that perhaps she had wanted him to find her.

…

The wizard staggered backwards, blood pouring from his nose. He looked a little stunned, but her  _actual_ Stunning Strike hadn’t quite landed.

Reeling, he spat a word in her direction, and moved his hands, and Beau did not quite have the time to dodge a burst of green acid. It burned through her skin, and her clothes, but mostly it only served to piss Beau off.

She punched him in the face, twice, before planting a heavy kick into his ribs. He fell back to the ground, wheezing, hands clutched at his ribs under the coat.

_No_ , Beau realized, too late.  _Not clutching his ribs. Grabbing for his component pouch._ She lashed out with her foot again, to kick his hand away again, but he changed tack quickly, casting a spell with no component. He did not stop when she pushed her foot into his chest.

Beau felt a sudden heat on her arms and legs. Had he cast  _Wall of Fire_ again? No, she spun around to see if it was behind her, and the flames seemed to follow.

Oh. Fuck

_She_ was on fire.

It seemed pointless to put the flames out. They would go out anyway, she imagined, after she beat the shit out of him. 

It took three more kicks to knock him out, and one knock of the staff to the head, for good measure. The fire went out in a flash. Beau’s whole godsdamned body was pumping with adrenaline. She didn’t want it to stop, because then she’d start feeling the pain of the fucking  _burns_ (acid and fire) that were all over her body now.

Fucking wizards, man.

She picked him up underneath the armpits, and dragged him into the motel room. Their fight had been brief, and she didn’t particularly want to have to find a new fucking place to stay.

. 

He wasn’t that heavy. Probably a hundred pounds, soaking wet. He definitely needed a good meal.

For that matter, she needed a good meal, too. Something big, and fried, and greasy. Like it was going to be her last meal, or something.

So, after she had tied him up, and gagged him, and made sure that his hands were kept very, very far apart, Beau called for takeout.

When she answered the door forty-five minutes later, flesh still sizzling, she tipped the delivery guy an extra ten gold to not say a fucking word.

He would, of course, say a fucking word to someone, but with any luck, Beau would be out of there before it became a problem. Still, she had made it through two burgers and a shitton of fries before remembering that she needed to feed the Scourger.

Sighing, she pulled her wrecked body over to the chair. He had been sitting in silence, staring at the wall. Beau took a handful of fries, and shoved them towards the man tied to the chair. He didn’t move.

‘Eat some fucking fries, man,’ Beau said, tiredly.

The wizard tried to say something through the gag in his mouth.  _Ah, shit_ . She was so tired, she’d just sort of assumed he could magic the food into him, or something. It had been a long fucking day. He couldn’t eat anything with a gag in his mouth, but the moment she removed the gag, he might try casting a spell.

‘Look,’ she said, eventually. ‘I know you want to kill me, but I’m telling you now, that’s a bad fucking idea. We both have a shared enemy in the Soltryce Academy, so if you’re not an idiot, you’ll work _with_ me instead of trying to kill me.’ She pulled the gag out. ‘Now eat a godsdamned fry.’

The wizard stared at her. She shoved a fry into his mouth. He ate it.

‘This is humiliating,’ he said, after he had chewed and swallowed. His Zemnian accent was a little more pronounced than the first time Beau had met him, but this time he had a bit more personality.

‘It’s Bren, right?’ Beau said, and the man flinched. ‘Well, what is _humiliating_ , Bren, is me having to upend my fucking life because you decided to defect. So work with me, and maybe I can untie those ropes.’

Bad idea.  _Bad fucking idea_ .

Beau had had a ton of bad fucking ideas, and none of them had gotten her killed yet. In fact, it had been an overabundance of caution that had gotten her burned, so really, the message she was getting was “be reckless.”

‘Caleb,’ the man said, and Beau paused.

‘What?’

‘I have, uh...decided to take on a new name. For security purposes, and to...separate myself from that part of my life. I am not that man anymore.’

‘Then why do you keep fucking trying to kill me?’ Beau offered him another fry, but this time he didn’t take it.

He paused. Frowned. Seemed a little confused by the question. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, finally. Man _,_ whatever Soltryce had done had really scrambled this guy’s brains, regardless of whatever  _Restoration_ had been cast on him.

She had thought, maybe, that if she could bring the guy in, they could interrogate him, and figure out she had nothing to do with his stupid defection. It was a pipe dream, and she knew it. Cobalt had their hands tied, because Soltryce had already decided that she was going to be their scapegoat. There was really only one way to get through this.

‘Were you happy there?’ Caleb asked, and Beau took a moment to realize that he was talking about the Cobalt Soul. She didn’t know why he was asking, but maybe it meant that his mind was evening out a little bit. So she decided to humor hum.

It was a tough question.

She hadn’t gone there by choice, after all, but after a time, the place had come to feel a little bit like family. Plus, the things that she’d gotten to do while working there were pretty fucking cool. She shrugged. ‘Pushing peoples' buttons, finding shit out... It's the only thing I was ever really good at.’

‘Perhaps you will find something else. For a time, I thought that killing people was the only thing that I was good at.’ Beau looked at him for a moment. She couldn’t figure out whether he was full of shit, or being sincere, or some mixture of the two. She decided to proceed on the assumption that he was trying to play her, and would hit her with another fucking fire spell at a moment’s notice.

If it came down to killing him, she would not hesitate.

…

He had been prepared to kill her.

He had  _planned_ to kill her.

In the moment, though, something had stopped him. Something beyond the three punches to the face, and the four kicks to the ribs. Whatever doubt he felt, she certainly feel the same.

Though, she hadn’t killed him. That was something.

That, he knew was less because of any personal feelings, and more because she needed him. Needed him to do whatever it was she planned to do to the Soltryce Academy. Though he didn’t care to admit it to her, their goals were one and the same.

So, when she finally untied the binds at his wrists, he did not attack. Perhaps it was against his better judgment, but his long term goals dictated that this woman stay alive for now. He rubbed at spot where the rope had dug in, and noticed the way she did not move her eyes from his hands. Smart. Smarter than he had initially given her credit for. Definitely not just a bruiser.

Caleb cleared his throat, and watched as her fists clenched slightly. ‘You think that we should work together,’ he said. It wasn’t a question. The fist loosened a little.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Take down Soltryce. Or whatever.’

Caleb smiled. It was a very different smile to Bren’s smile. ‘What did you have in mind?’

Beauregard grinned.

‘Let’s burn it to the fucking ground.’

**Author's Note:**

> Will probably be a final part to tie everything together.
> 
> Come and find me at thefriendlymurderer.tumblr.com, and give me some writing prompts.


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